


His Voice

by Elwen_of_the_hidden_valley



Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms, The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Bag End, Birthday, Gen, Post Havens, Post-Quest, The Shire
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-17
Updated: 2016-01-17
Packaged: 2018-05-14 12:24:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 485
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5743786
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elwen_of_the_hidden_valley/pseuds/Elwen_of_the_hidden_valley
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Merry And Pippin celebrate a birthday.</p>
            </blockquote>





	His Voice

**Author's Note:**

> Everything is owned by JRR Tolkien. I'm borrowing for a while.

HIS VOICE

 

“You alright, Pip?” Merry settled down on the bench next to him and Pippin brushed away a tear.

“Yes. I was just remembering.”

Merry slid an arm about his cousin’s shoulders. “I’m not sure it was such a good idea, celebrating his birthday without him. It just seems to bring home the fact that he really isn’t here and we won’t see him again. I’m sorry . . . it was a silly idea.” 

Pippin turned a concerned face to him. “Oh, no, Merry. It was a wonderful idea and I'm not upset . . . not really.”

“Then why are you sitting in the garden, crying. You silly goose.”

Years of practice allowed Pippin to dodge the blow aimed at his ear and he giggled. It seemed that no matter how old the two of them got, that giggle would remain. Pippin turned away to the view down the hill towards Hobbiton and the warm autumn landscape beyond.

“I was crying at first . . . I have to admit. I suddenly realised that I couldn’t remember what his voice sounded like. Funny, isn’t it? I knew him all those years and you’d think his voice would be imprinted on every memory . . . but it felt as though it was fading.”

“Oh Pip!” Merry drew him close again, his own voice cracking a little. But the indomitable Pip only smiled up at him and nodded out towards the view.

“Just listen, Merry. Close your eyes and listen.”

A little suspicious of his cousin’s intentions, Merry did as instructed. He had been caught out by too many of Pip’s pranks over the years. But no prank came, and after a few moments he began to relax, the lowering sun warm on his face.

Somewhere in the apple tree a blackbird had begun its evening chorus . . . the sweet descant rising above the sounds of children’s laughter as they splashed and played in a stream away down the hill. A cow lowed, demanding to be relieved of her accumulation of milk and in the same meadow sheep bleated a response. 

A light breeze toyed with the maturing trees on the road, and tugged playfully at the golden leaves . . . testing their metle against the October gales to come. The leaves whispered laugh seemed to taunt . . .”Do your worst. We will return.”

In the smial behind them, Rosie’s voice drifted from the nursery, lilting a lullaby to Little Frodo and the rhythmic chopping of wood came from the back garden, where Sam was laying in firewood against the winter to come. Bag End would be cosy and warm no matter what the world sent their way.

Merry drew in a deep breath, letting the sounds fill every corner of his being and he exhaled all the pain that had constricted his heart. 

“Can you hear him, Merry? This is what it was all about for him. The Shire. His voice is here and always will be.”

END.


End file.
